


this is where we come alive

by cryingintheclub



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Borussia Dortmund, Celebrations, DFB-Pokal final 2017, Established Relationship, Getting Together, M/M, Multi, Threesome - M/M/M, lots of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:09:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21556813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryingintheclub/pseuds/cryingintheclub
Summary: An insight into Borussia Dortmund's celebrations after winning the DFB-Pokal.
Relationships: Marc Bartra/Erik Durm, Marco Reus/Nuri Şahin/Łukasz Piszczek, Roman Bürki/Julian Weigl
Kudos: 11





	this is where we come alive

**Author's Note:**

> I was looking at photos and reminiscing about the dfb-pokal win and this is the end result. kudos and comments are appreciated!

Falling into Roman's arms was easy. 

Roman just had a way of making Julian feel safe, at ease. It helped that Roman was unfairly good-looking and had an infectious smile that Julian just had to reciprocate every time Roman sent a smile his way. 

Like now. Julian was pinned between the bed and Roman, his arms resting to the sides of Julian's head, looking down on him with that smile that made Julian's stomach do flips. (That feeling in his stomach could be attributed to the copious amount of alcohol he had consumed throughout the course of the night, but Julian wanted to think that Roman had this effect on him). 

"I'm so happy," Julian admitted out into the open air. And he was; happy that they had ended the season on a high, happy to _here_, at Dortmund, with this opportunity to play for a world-class club, and happy to be with Roman, the love of his life. "I love you," Julian said giddly, not knowing if it was the effect of the alcohol or Roman. 

Roman smiled again; a bright, big smile that made Julian's stomach do flips again. "I love you too," he said before he leant down and kissed Julian on the lips. The kiss was slow and sweet; there was no sense of urgency or rush about it, as Julian melted into the kiss and savoured the feel of Roman's lips on his. 

Julian closed his eyes as he turned his head over to side, exposing the long line of his neck for Roman. Roman left feather-light kisses down the side of Julian’s neck. 

Julian was in pure bliss, feeling weightless as time stopped. All he could focus on was Roman’s lips that roamed across his body, leaving Julian’s skin burning in its wake. 

Julian wanted this to never end; he wanted to feel Roman’s lips on his skin forever; he wanted this moment, this feeling, of pure content and joy to never end. 

Later on, Roman and Julian were in bed, limbs tangled underneath the wrinkled sheets, fingers intertwined together. Roman was asleep; his chest was rising and lowering in time with his deep breaths. Julian was awake; not because he couldn’t sleep, but because he didn’t want to fall asleep. He didn’t want this day to end, to wake up in the morning and realise it was over. 

“Go to sleep,” Roman said, voice hoarse. 

“I don’t want to,” Julian replied. He response caused Roman to laugh. 

“Just close your eyes then, silly. We still have the parade with fans tomorrow. Can’t have you falling asleep on the fans,” Roman told Julian. Through the moonlight streaming in through the curtains, Julian saw that Roman was looking at him fondly, eyes soft and full of love. 

“Okay,” Julian agreed, and kissed Roman on the lips before turning around on his pillow and closes his eyes, his fingers still intertwined with Roman’s. 

* * *

Łukasz’s hands hadn’t left Marco’s waist all night. It was the first time the two had displayed public affection with the team, putting an end to the rumours of whether they were together or not. 

After the first hour, the team grew bored of the jeers and cheers they had sent Łukasz and Marco’s way. They moved on to celebrating the win by drinking copious amounts of alcohol. 

But one teammate’s eyes kept drifting to Łukasz’s hands across Marco’s waist throughout the night. Nuri kept sneaking glances when he thought Łukasz and Marco wouldn’t notice.

But they did. And it fuelled them on even more. 

“I’m going in,” Marco said to Łukasz, his lips brushing against the shell of Łukasz’s ear.

“Go on, baby,” Łukasz said, sitting down on the bench in the dressing room, nursing a cold can of beer in his hand. His eyes followed Marco as he crossed the dressing room, confidence skyrocketing with all the alcohol that coursed his veins. 

(Not that Marco was short on confidence when he was sober). 

Łukasz watched as Marco slid into the vacant space on the bench beside Nuri, who was on his phone, a can of German beer forgotten on the other side of him. Marco nudged Nuri in the side and Nuri looked up, eyes widened at seeing Marco right up in his personal space. 

Nuri braved a quick glance at Łukasz who just nodded his head and took a drink of his beer. Nuri looked back at Marco, not worried that Łukasz was going to pummel him for talking to his boyfriend. 

Łukasz watched as Marco whispered something in his ear, he watched as Nuri’s neck and cheeks flushed a rosy pink. Marco’s lips were curved into a smirk, as he slid closer to Nuri, their thighs flushed against the other’s. 

Marco leant over and whispered something into Nuri’s ears again. Nuri’s eyes widened as he made eye contact with Łukasz again from across the dressing room. Łukasz smirked at Nuri before taking another sip of his beer, reaching the end of the can. 

Nuri’s eyes narrowed and he bit his bottom lip. Łukasz knew they had him.   
  


Łukasz and Marco pushed Nuri against the closed hotel room door and began kissing down each side of his neck. 

Nuri moaned as his hands made their way to Łukasz and Marco’s gelled hair. Łukasz smirked against Nuri’s neck and kissed down to Nuri’s collarbone, sucking a mark into the skin. 

Marco did the same, as they gave Nuri matching love bites on each of his collarbones. 

“Are you sure you want this?” Łukasz asked Nuri. He was always the more cautious one, never wanting to make a decision until he had thoroughly thought it through. 

“Yes. I want this,” Nuri confirmed. Łukasz and Marco smiled at each other before all three made their way to the bed, falling on it in a tangle of limbs. 

“Ready for us to rock your world?” Marco asked Nuri as he helped Nuri slip off his shirt. 

“Shut up, Marco,” Łukasz groaned at the corny line. It was a horrible line, but Marco was a walking encyclopaedia full of horrible pick-up lines. 

“That was horrible,” Nuri said and laughed, the skin around his eyes crinkling. 

Marco took off his shirt and threw it onto the carpet. “Then find something to put my mouth to better use.”

Łukasz and Nuri just grinned knowingly at each other. 

* * *

Erik had liked Marc for a long time. Ever since the wide-eyed Spaniard had arrived from Barcelona, specifically.

And no matter how many goalposts Erik walked into, Marc never got the hint. Roman was sick and tired of having to fuss over Erik to the point that he started to blatantly ignore Erik when he walked into the goalpost after the fifth time it had happened. 

It happened so regularly that Tuchel had told Erik on several occasions that he would personally organise an appointment to see an optometrist about Erik’s eye-sight. 

The whole squad could see that Erik was head-over-heels for Marc. Everybody but Marc himself. Erik didn’t know _what_ he had to do for Marc to realise. He’d walked into goalposts, nearly stumbled off treadmills, saved Marc’s spots at lunch and shared his food. 

He was becoming the butt of the squad’s jokes, with Auba and Marco setting up wagers of the length of time it would take for Marc to realise Erik’s feelings for him. 

(Ten years,” Auba snorted, and he and Marco had laughed like Auba had made the funniest joke ever. 

Erik sometimes thought he was the funniest joke ever.) 

Erik sighed for the fifth time in half an hour as Roman and Julian sat beside him, looking into each other’s eyes lovingly without saying a word. It was quite sickening and off-putting, Erik had to admit. 

Roman broke eye-contact with Julian (the two hadn’t blinked for three minutes — Erik had counted) and frowned at Erik. 

“Stop sighing and to do something.” Roman gestured at Marc, who was talking and laughing with Christian. 

“I’ve done everything.” Erik continued to wallow in self-pity as the beer in his hand turned lukewarm. 

“You’ve done everything but _talked to him_. How do you expect to have a relationship if you can’t even communicate like a functional human being?” 

Erik bristled at Roman’s harsh words. Maybe he had a point, but there was a nicer way of putting it. 

Almost as though Roman could read Julian’s thoughts, Roman said, “you need the tough love act. You’ve been a chicken for too long now.” 

_A chicken?_ Now Roman was just being plain rude. 

“Take it easy on him, Roman. It’s hard having feelings for somebody who is so oblivious,” Julian said, being the peacemaker between Roman and Erik. 

“Just go and talk to him,” Roman said, gesturing to Marc again. Erik’s eyes found Marc again, sitting on a bench with the trophy in his hands, taking a selfie with it. Seeing Marc’s smile made Erik’s stomach drop. 

He turned to say something to Roman and Julian, but as he turned around, Roman and Julian were nowhere to be seen. 

“Bastards,” Erik muttered under his breath. 

Erik turned back around to see Marc making a beeline for him, his smile still wide. Erik tried to not make his panic apparent as Marc slid into the space Roman had occupied a minute ago. 

“Do you want to get a photo?” Marc asked and gestured to the trophy. 

Erik stared at Marc for several seconds, until he realised he hadn’t spoken yet. “Yes — yes, of course.” 

Marc flashed a smile at Marc and set up the camera on his phone as the trophy was placed on both their laps. Marc’s right thigh were pressed up against Erik’s left thigh, and Erik felt as though he had reached cloud nine. 

“It’s not going to be a good photo unless you smile,” Marc said, looking over to Erik. 

“Sorry,” Erik apologised as he cursed himself silently for looking like an idiot. 

He smiled as Marc took the photos. Marc looked painfully beautiful in all three photos and all Erik wanted to do was to lean across and kiss him. 

When Marc turned back, Erik’s eyes had found Marc’s lips before quickly looking away. He hoped he was quick enough for Marc to not see, but as he met Marc’s eyes, Marc had an unreadable expression on his face. Erik’s heart sank; Marc had noticed. 

“I’m sorry,” Erik said as he shot up and left the dressing room. He was halfway down the tunnel when he heard footsteps on the linoleum floor. 

“Erik, wait,” Erik heard Marc call out. Erik ignored him and kept walking. 

The footsteps became louder until Erik found himself pinned against the wall. Erik became hyper aware of Marc’s body pressed against his own. 

“Erik -” Marc began. 

“I like you okay?” Erik began, just finally going to put it out in the open. He was tired of wondering what it would be like to be with Marc. He wanted to _know_. “I like you a lot, and I want to be with you.” 

Marc was silent for a few moments that felt like hours for Erik. Then, a smile took over Marc’s face. He stepped closer to Erik and cupped Erik’s face in his hands. “Why didn’t you say something?” 

Erik had a retort on his lips but it was swallowed up in a kiss, as Marc kissed Erik. Erik kissed Marc back, feeling like he was going to cry from sheer joy. A weight had been lifted from Erik’s shoulders. He had been waiting for this moment for too long now, and he was going to savour it. 

Marc broke the kiss as he rested his forehead against Erik’s. They looked at each other and Erik’s chest felt like it was going to burst. 

“At least I’m not going to walk into any more goalposts,” Erik joked and watched as Marc’s laughter turned into horror. 

“That was because of me?” he asked, eyes comically wide in horror. 

“To be fair it is my fault. I do get distracted easily,” Erik admitted as his hands trailed up Marc’s arms. 

Marc got the hint as he said, “that sounds like a problem you could use some help with.” 

Erik was about to respond when, 

“HOLY SHIT ERIK AND MARC FINALLY GOT TOGETHER!” 

“Christian! Hold on!” Erik called out to his teammate, but it was no use as Christian ran back inside the dressing room and was most likely telling the rest of the squad and handing out money to the ones who won the wager. 

“Should we go back in and face the music?” Marc asked Erik. 

“I have a better idea,” Erik replied as he kissed Marc again. 


End file.
